


Two Ships Passing in the Night

by a_quirk_called_insanity



Series: We Pick Ourselves Undone [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Memory Loss, Natasha ships Stucky, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Room, Russian assassins having a heart-to-heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7343605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_quirk_called_insanity/pseuds/a_quirk_called_insanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief interlude; in which Natasha and Bucky do what Russian assassins do- get drunk and have a heart-to-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Ships Passing in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry that it's been a while!  
> I wanted to thank my wonderful beta, Phyoaros, who went through this with me at 2 am and puts up with my many typos. Thank you!!!  
> ALSO: this is the third installment in a series, and it probably won't make sense unless you read the first two.
> 
> WARNING: excess consumption of alcohol and mention of underage drinking, as well as a reference to a past relationship with a minor.  
> Enjoy!

It was a dingy bar: the beige wallpaper was stained and peeling, with whole patches missing. The bar surface was sticky and smelled faintly of vomit. The patrons that were scattered around the dimly-lit room would fit in just as well in orange jumpsuits. He could feel more than one pair of eyes on him as he mapped out all the exits and scanned the crowds for any possible HYDRA agents. Everyone appeared normal, which was disappointing. Jamie had been sure she would take the bait, that she would be unable to resist. Still, he could’ve been wrong. His brain was still fucked up from decades of electric shock, brainwashing, and repeated trauma. His memories could be wrong.

The bartender finally spotted him and made her way over to him, wiping at spots on the counter as she did. “I’m Cam,” she told him, using the same rag to clean out an empty glass from the man seated next to Jamie. “What can I get you?” 

“I-” Jamie hesitated. He still wasn’t used to people asking what he wanted, and answering their questions made him distinctly uncomfortable. Part of him was still convinced he would be punished for it, but HYDRA’s programming was slowly fading to white noise the longer he avoided Them. “A bottle of the cheapest Russian vodka you have,” he finally replied, not wanting to keep her waiting any longer. Impatient people were violent, fear-invoking people. That, he knew well.

Cam raised a pierced eyebrow, giving him a once-over before nodding. “As long as you don’t puke on my counter,” she said warningly. “Don’t drink the whole thing here, and let me know if you need me to call a cab.” He nodded, uncomfortable from her genuine concern but not showing it. She dropped the rag and proceeded through the door behind her, most likely to a storage room. Jamie continued to observe the room, still searching for the one person he knew of who would understand his situation.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice greeted him, and despite being startled, he kept still, watching from behind a curtain of long, dark hair as she sat down on the empty seat to his right. “James Buchanan Barnes,” she said matter-of-factly. “ _Zimniy soldat*_. The Winter Soldier.”

“Natalia Romanova,” he responded. “The Black Widow.”

“You don’t remember me,” she guessed. There was a slight nagging sensation in his brain, and he could remember a few snatches of a younger Natalia, one with fiery eyes and a loud determination, one that left him with a vague sensation of awe and desire, but that was it. He shook his head, not wanting to upset the Black Widow more than he already had, for he knew lies were something the KGB loathed.

As she bit her lip, considering what he had just admitted to, Jamie studied her. Her hair was brown and sloppily pulled back, and tattoos covered both arms. Close inspection revealed they were fake. When she had revealed both SHIELD and HYDRA all those months ago, all of her files had come to light as well. He supposed it was a new identity. Those weren’t the only changes- she looked more worn, more tired, than in DC. The fire he could remember seeing so clearly in young Natalia’s eyes was dimmed in Natasha’s, but still present. Her shoulders were tense and her eyes were taking in the entire room, mimicking Jamie’s earlier paranoia. He continued to watch her until she finished her sweep and turned back to him. “Is HYDRA after you?”

“Yes,” Jamie admitted. “They found me back in Iowa, and they’re still on my tail. You?”

Before she could answer, Cam returned with a dusty bottle and two shot glasses. Jamie opened the bottle, but his right hand was shaking too hard to hold the bottle steady enough to pour it, and only three of the fingers on his Other Hand were working. He swore quietly in Russian and Natasha (Natalia was someone of the past. She was Natasha now- hero, SHIELD agent, Avenger) smirked at his word choice before taking the bottle from him and filling both glasses. They tipped them back perfectly in-sync, and Jamie shuddered as the alcohol burned the whole way down.

“No, HYDRA isn’t looking yet,” she finally answered. “Steve’s looking for you too, you know.” She was already pouring second shots for both of them. Bucky simply shrugged, unsure what to say. “He’s worried about you. He forgave you well before that helicarrier crashed.”

“That punk’s always been too damn forgiving,” he muttered. He knew the words were true as soon as they left his mouth- from the pieces of his past that had come back to him, as well as what he had learned at the Captain America exhibit, Steve had always been compassionate.

“Yeah,” she agreed, studying him carefully. “Rogers is like that.” She downed the shot and Jamie followed suit. 

“How is he?” Jamie finally asked when the burning subsided. It was the question he desperately wanted to know the answer to, the question that meant more than any of the others.

If Natasha was surprised by the sudden question, she didn’t show it. Habit, he guessed. Jamie knew about the Red Room, knew about what Natasha had been through when she was still young and full of youthful resolve. After the Red Room, he knew there would be habits she’d never be able to break, just like how he still had difficulty overriding his programming. She was the only Avenger he trusted to take him down if need be, because she was the only one whose mind had been perfectly shaped by cruel men before it was all torn away. She was the only one who would know exactly what she needed to do if the situation arose. The realization of how much he trusted someone he barely remembered was a stab to his gut, and he smothered it in another shot, which Natasha matched.

“Heartbroken. He really misses you. He’s been trying to find you for three months now.” 

Jamie closed his trembling hand around the edge of the counter and shut his eyes. He’d been trying to block Steve out for the past few months, trying desperately to push away all the hope and longing Steve’s name alone conjured. Now, he was mere miles away from the man who held answers, who looked for him even after he’d almost killed him. Steve would help him. He’d known it before, in the very bottom of his gut and from the tingling in his wrecked brain, even before Natasha had confirmed it. 

“Where is he?” Jamie murmured, eyes still shut, and he listened to the sound of vodka being poured. When the noise ceased, he opened his eyes and grabbed the alcohol and drained it yet again. Natasha waited longer before drinking hers. When she lowered her glass, he could see her decision in her eyes.

“On a mission.” Truth. “He has an apartment in Queens, though. Nice place. It’ll be empty for a few more days, until he gets back.” Jamie could hear her underlying message- you look like shit. Camp out at his place until you’re all healed up. He wanted to insist that there was no way he would do that- he’d already killed a man in Steve’s other apartment, and Jamie didn’t want his bad luck to follow to his new apartment as well. Any protests were immediately silenced when she fixed him with a glare. “Don’t you dare say you’re fine, Barnes.”

Jamie stared down at the bar and bit his lip. Logically, it made sense. Jamie could get sleep for a few nights in an apartment that was sure to have good security, safe from HYDRA, and Steve would never have to know. Very slowly, he nodded, ignoring Natasha’s grin next to him as she pushed yet another shot in his direction.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” he mumbled, but gulped it down anyway. His vision was starting to blur around the edges and his constantly-trembling hand was heavy and still**. The alcohol left a warm feeling inside him and he savored it.

“I know you can handle it,” she retorted, copying his motions and bringing the glass to her lips.

That made Jamie pause. “We…” he began hesitantly, trying to put the sense of deja vu into words. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we?” The memory was there, buried just under the surface, but he couldn’t fully pull it loose.

For a split second, Natasha morphed into something else- something full of hate and pain and desperation- but then it was gone, and Jamie was sure he’d misread her expression. “Yes,” she told him. “In the Red Room. You brought a bottle of vodka and we drank it up on the roof. I thought you said you didn’t remember me.***”

“Only… glimpses,” he said. “Not enough.” He thought about what she had said, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it was someone else he recalled sharing drinks with.

They continued to work their way through the bottle until their heads swam and their words slurred. Jamie’s mind was even murkier than usual, but it was more of a dimmed, fuzzy version than the usual fried and gutted. There was still vodka left, but if he was going to sleep at Steve’s apartment, he would need to be sober enough to walk, so he let Natasha leave five twenties and scribble down Steve’s address onto a clean napkin. As he emerged into the rain, he rubbed his shoulder, finally bringing his attention to the ache where metal fused with flesh. The joint grew especially uncomfortable during weather changes, but his intoxication numbed it enough to shove it to the side. He watched Natasha walk away, rain landing on his head and running through his hair, soaking his skin, dousing his clothes and sneaking into his boots. He let the water wash over him and imagined it was washing away at the horrors and tragedies that clung to his skin, cleansing him until the Soldier was gone and he was simply Bucky Barnes.

The thought was disrupted when an elderly man bumped into him, and he let out a sigh. Bucky Barnes was gone. Jamie was the only one left. He pulled the napkin out of his pocket and committed the address to memory before tearing it up into soggy bits and dumping them in the nearest trash can. Then he let the crowd sweep him up and walked.  
Jamie walked for approximately an hour before reaching Steve’s apartment. By then, it was long past sunset and steadily approaching midnight. He managed to enter undetected, and barely noticed his surroundings as he stumbled over to a couch and collapsed. Jamie’s body finally gave into its exhaustion and he found himself sinking into the realm of sleep. The last thought that crossed his mind was a distant hoping that he’d consumed enough alcohol to sleep dreamlessly, and then he finally fell into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> *Zimniy Soldat is Russian for Winter Soldier (at least according to Google Translate). If someone actually speaks Russian and this is wrong, PLEASE correct me!  
> **I don't know if you've noticed, but I've frequently mentioned Bucky's hand shaking. In this universe, his brain has been fucked up enough to mess with his thalamus, which lead to an Essential Benign Tremor, which is made worse by stress. This is categorized by uncontrollable shaking in the upper part of the body, including hands and arms. I've been doing a lot of research, but feel free to look it up if you want to know more.  
> ***I'm not sure which comicverse the movies are in, but this is referencing the one where Natasha and the Winter Soldier had a brief romance.  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! As always, feedback is much appreciated, and it makes my day!


End file.
